


of birthdays and drunk texts

by Hugabug



Series: bayaniserye drabble challenge [7]
Category: Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Drunk Texting, Drunken Shenanigans, Friendship, Gen, Happy Birthday Jose Rizal, Happy Fathers Day teamdad Selong, I had way too much fun writing this, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Selong stops it of course, i have never felt the weight of my sin until now, part of the, prof/ta au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:19:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hugabug/pseuds/Hugabug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is exactly why Marcelo H. del Pilar firmly believes that Dr. Jose “Pepe” Protacio Rizal should be kept away (<i>far away</i>) from the Smirnoff and <i>sober</i> at all costs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of birthdays and drunk texts

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't prompted but i had **_WAY_** too much fun

“Pepe, give me your phone.”

“No.”

“Seriously, Pepe, this isn’t funny.”

“ _Nooooo~~~_ ”

“ _Pepe_ –!”

The younger man mewls in protest, a noise that oddly enough, truly sounds like an upset cat, and Selong resists the urge to recoil in both surprise and disgust. 

_This_  is exactly why he firmly believes that Dr. Jose “Pepe” Protacio Rizal should be kept away ( _far away_ ) from the Smirnoff and  _sober_ at all costs.

There are just _way too many_  numbers to drunk text.

It’s getting exhausting.

“Pepe, give me the phone.” Selong says, sternly, despite wanting to collapse into a pool of tears at the absurdity of it all. “ _Jose Protacio Rizal give me_ –”

There was no verbal response– an absolute _miracle_  if ever there was one– but Pepe made sure not to fall behind on the record of silliness his drunk self had manage to set up because  _God forbid_  Dr. Jose Protacio Rizal half-asses anything but his bloody _spread sheets_  and fucking  _doctorate papers_.

“Pepe, get out from under the– _Rizal,_ goddamnit, _stop hissing at me get out from under there_.”

“ _Nooooo_ ~~~” the Calamban mewls again, shaking his head violently yet still managing to keep the beige afghan draped on his head. In his small hands, between his surprisingly strong fingers, is his phone, currently running on 50% battery and 50% lack of dignity. He’s smiling like an idiot, too, and Selong so badly wants to smack him.

Or curl up on the floor and cry. Either which sounds pretty good right now.

“You’re _mean_.” Pepe whines, trying his hardest to wriggle further under the knitted wool like some deranged hermit crab and evade Selong’s attempts at getting his phone. “Selong it’s my _birthday_  and you’re being _soooo_   _mean_.”

“You bet I’m being mean.” Selong growls, latching on to the corner of the i-phone with his forefinger and thumb, giving it a mighty tug. “But you know what? You’re going to thank me in the morning– _because you’re an idiotic dick head and I’m currently stopping you from letting the world find that out._ ”

Pepe sniffles. “I’m not a _dick head_!” he cries, pouting. “I’m _not_!Ask Andoy, he thinks I’m _amazing_!”

“I can tell Andres you crap _rainbows_ out your _ass_  and he’ll believe me.” 

“He _will not_.”

Selong glowers. “Oh, trust me.” Another mighty tug. One. _Two_. “He won’t after–”  _Three_ –

Selong stumbles backward. And Pepe’s phone goes along with him.

“ _Aha_!” he cries, holding it up as Pepe surges toward him, jumping up and down, unable to reach it. “You _idiot_!”

“No!” _Jump_. “I have to,” _Jump._  “No, let me just,” _Jump._ “I need to tell Andoy–”

“You don’t need to tell Andoy jackshit.” Selong cuts off, typing in his friend’s password (1-2-3-4– _seriously_?!) before scrolling through the long winded text that was pretty much 3/4th kissy face emoji and ¼th confession of undying love.

“Oh, yeah.” Selong says, cringing. “You’re going to thank me in the morning.”

The text goes, and Pepe lets out a small wail of mourning.

“But– _But_ –” he sniffles again, actual tears welling in his big brown eyes, chin wobbling with overwhelming emotion. “Selong he needs to know how I f-f- _feel_!”

“He _will_  know, Pepe,” Selong rolls his eyes and seats the Calamban down, letting him sob into his shoulder. “When you’re sober.”

“But I’m not brave enough sober!” Pepe hiccups, wiping his snot unceremoniously on the sleeve of Selong’s shirt. “I’m just so _helpless_ –”

Then, he gets this look, like he’s about to burst out into _another_  Hamilton song, and Selong quells the need to run away.

“Ok, _no_ , I’m going to stop you right there.” he says instead, clamping a hand over Pepe’s mouth even if he knows that the possibility of Pepe licking it was high. “ _Jose Protacio Rizal_  you listen to me.

You have faced down Marcos. You nearly got your head chopped in Mindanao all for a good story. You exposed the pedophile cardinal. You’ve written novels that _shook_  the intellectual community. You started an _internet revolution_ against the _Catholic institution_. You have protested and rallied and written your way out of everything– You’re _brave_ , ‘Pe.”

Pepe’s eyes are wide as he nods. “ _Yaaaafff!!!_ ”

Selong grins and removes his hand in favor of ruffling his friend’s messy hair. “Feelings? Confessions? _Forget that, man_. You’re _Jose Protacio_ –”

“– _Rizal Mercado y Alonso Realonda_!” Pepe shouts, raising his hands in the air in victory. “And _I can do this_!”

“ _Yeah you_ – wait, what?”

“ _Wooooooooooooo~~~_ ”

“ _Wait_ – is that your real na– _Pepe,_ oh Dios ko, _get off the_ fucking _fire escape,_ Pepe–!”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr ver.](http://en-sam-malas.tumblr.com/post/146153256560/of-birthdays-and-drunk-texts)  
>  prompt instructions [here](http://en-sam-malas.tumblr.com/post/145790223815/bayaniserye-drabble-challenge)!!


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